


A Union of Improbable Possibilities

by SakuraWindChime



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Edo Period, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, On the Run, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outlaws, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-01-23 12:45:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18550030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SakuraWindChime/pseuds/SakuraWindChime
Summary: Yuuri is a magic-borne in a country where the practice of magic is illegal for commoners under the Shogunate and Feudal Lords. He had come to peace with a life hidden behind paper walls and working at his parent’s bath house in their small, coastal town.But that was all until a beautiful foreigner brought wintery snow on a warm, spring day and Yuuri’s life irrevocably changed with a single touch.





	1. Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [izzyisozaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzyisozaki/pseuds/izzyisozaki)  
> 

Spring was a beautiful season in Japan, the streets coming alive after the frigid cold of winter thawed to reveal the warmth of reborn festivity. Quiet chatter and the fluttering of cherry blossom petals followed Yuuri as he carried out his daily task of buying fresh food from the market for his family’s bath house.

The thrumming power that constantly coursed beneath his skin dampened with the change of the season, no longer surrounded by the chill and ice of his affinity. Though the change bothered Yuuri little. With the practice of magic being illegal to anyone under the hierarchy of the Shoganate and Feudal Lords, it wasn’t like Yuuri could openly use his power in public anyway. But, secretly, it thrilled him to have something that no one outside his family and Teacher Minako knew about.

“Yuuri! Good afternoon,” called a stallholder to his right, abruptly disrupting his once peaceful stroll.

_Damn, she isn’t usually here._

At the unfortunately familiar voice Yuuri reluctantly turned, placed on a polite smile, and made his way over to the cheerfully waving stallholder. She had successfully baited and reeled him in, knowing that, once caught, decorum deemed Yuuri to endure the interaction; the hook being her friendship with his family.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Tanaka,” Yuuri greeted with a small inclination of his head. _Grin and bear it_.

“ _Oh Yuuri_ , how many times have I told you to call me Maiko! Anyway, just this morning we were lucky and caught some fresh mackerel!” Mrs Tanaka gestured widely over the sushi platters, wafting piquant dark soy in the wake of her bare arms. “I’ve made some delicious cured sashimi. You simply _must_ try.” The glint in her eyes was barely concealed.

_Straight in with the dagger; sales must have been slow lately._

He felt the skin around his eyes wrinkle with the strain of his smile. “My mother will be jealous if I keep coming home with another woman’s cooking.” Yuuri awkwardly tried to laugh her offer away, hoping that she took the hint and let him walk away both empty handed and with his pouch full.

“Nonsense!” Mrs Tanaka exclaimed, dismissively waving her hand. “Hiroko and I used to cook together _all_ the time back in the day – she loves my cooking! Besides, you never know, she might just want to add this one to the menu,” she flourished with a wink.

He should have foreseen his attempt would be in vain, barely containing a frustrated sigh.

Yuuri knew for a fact that his mother found Mrs Tanaka’s ongoing ambition to have her foodstuffs served at the bath house rather irritating at best. His sister long ago turned her nose against decorum and always simply walked past, but Yuuri did not have the hardened back to bear the brunt of the whispers muttered behind hands. If she could, Mari would probably conjure a mist solely to conceal herself from the woman’s sight whenever she had to pass.

“Well then, I suppose I should take some back for her to sample.”

“Wonderful!” Mrs Tanaka exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. “I’ll box a dozen, so then there’s plenty for all four of you to try!”

She immediately busied herself collecting a cloth and a small, wooden box, as Yuuri watched in mild fascination wondering how she could so easily coerce a sale without feeling an ounce of guilt. Perhaps it was due to his blessing of being raised within a family business that prospered over the years.

“Here we are.”

Taking the proffered pink cloth-wrapped bundle, Yuuri placed the appropriate amount of coin on the lacquered, rectangle dish that sat on the table before uttering their farewells. He made his retreat with his basket heavier and pouch lighter, breathing a sigh of relief, thankful that their exchange had not dragged on much longer. Teacher Minako had finally returned from her month-long trip and he was all too eager to resume his magic training.

The rest his shopping was carried out in a much more timely manner, conversations kept strictly to business and general well wishes before moving onto the next shop. As usual the residents of Hasetsu called out their greetings; living in a town so small meant that everyone knew everyone else _and_ their animals.

And, of course, rumour ran rife.

The news on the grapevine that week was of the arrival of a strange looking foreigner. They spoke of creamy skin and silver hair that belied the man’s youthful appearance. Not to mention the brightest blue eyes that apparently rivalled the clearest summer sky.

Yuuri had been asked several times by guests and family friends alike if he had seen the foreigner yet, to which he always shook his head. Nor had he cared to see the man, unless he were to be so generous as to become a patron of their bath house.

He did not need his yearning to travel to lands beyond the sea to brew any stronger than they were already.

Rounding a corner into a new street, the chatter rose into an excitable commotion around Yuuri. Wooden and canvas sandals clacked and slapped against the moistened, compacted ground with the rush of people converging to an area toward the end of the street. Curiosity piqued, Yuuri followed the crowd in the hope that it wasn’t just another delivery of a royal proclamation.

As he drew near, he noticed speckles of white carry on the breeze that instantly melted upon coming into contact with the ground and Yuuri’s clothing. _Snow?_

It was far too warm for snow to form.

Yuuri picked up his pace, unease prickling along his skin with the sudden drop in temperature the closer he drew to the circled crowd. He shot a glance to the sky, quickly noting the still sparse clouds and the definite lack of snow falling from it. _No, no_. Deep foreboding seeped through his skin and settled within his bones with the dreaded confirmation of his suspicion.

He nudged and half stumbled through the throng of people, any sense of decorum be damned. If someone was publicly practicing magic, not only would _their_ head be on the line, but the whole of Hasetsu would be investigated. Teacher Minako’s harsh warnings from his childhood about the Samurai discovering magic-borne among the commoners still sent shivers down his spine. His family and everything they had worked so hard to achieve would be at risk.

Cold nipped at his exposed skin, his own magic singing with delight at the call to his affinity, as he finally laid eyes on the perpetrator above the barrier of shoulders and heads.

Yuuri felt his jaw go slack in awe. _Wow_.

Hair a shade darker than the conjured snow that bent and flowed at his will, the foreigner who had captured everyone’s attention the past week twirled with an elegance completely different to that of the traditional dance of Nippon. The visceral energy that radiated from the magic-borne felt like it beckoned to Yuuri’s very soul, compelling him to draw closer to the spell it cast. Completely enraptured, he unwittingly pushed his way through the front line of people for a clear view.

The dancer spun with his arms out and aligned with his shoulders, he leapt and kicked high, the magic commanded in a way Yuuri had never witnessed before. Flurries of snow followed his graceful movements, drawn in when his arms wrapped around his body like a lover’s caress and whirled when his arms swept out once more.

It was _beautiful_.

Nervous murmurs filtered through his daze, snapping Yuuri’s attention back from the cloud it had perched upon. The tension in the surrounding air was palpable and Yuuri glanced around the crowd until a looming expanse of white entered his periphery. Iced fear seized his body, eyes slowly sliding upward to realise they stood in the stark view of Feudal Lord Ogasawara’s castle built atop the raised harbour.

Yuuri froze with acute terror while the person beside him backed away from the crowd and others whispered behind hands, averting their eyes from the magic-borne. No one was going to stop him. No one wanted to become involved with a criminal and lose everything they held dear.

So few were born into the social position to be taught Latina, the common language they would need to communicate with the foreigner, that they could not call a comprehensible warning if they wanted to attempt aid. Yet, not one soul even _tried_. They were just going to stand idly by and let the disaster unfold before them, regardless of the damage the tremors may leave in its wake.

The man dropped to a seated crouch, bouncing with the flick of his bare, pointed feet, his ill-worn summer clothes hitched inappropriately high with the movement. A serene smile painted his face, his eyes closed in contentment as the snow continued to dance along. He had absolutely no perception of the ferocious storm that awaited him.

Someone  _had_ to stop him.

“W– wait!” Yuuri lurched forward, voice gaining enough strength to command in Latina. “You can’t do that here!”

Yuuri’s outstretched hand caught the man’s forearm as he rose from his crouch.

Blue light pierced through Yuuri’s fingers, energy bursting forth from their contact and shot high in a beaconed arch above their heads. Fizzling pinpricks stabbed a burning path up his arm, taking over his entire body. For a moment all he knew was blinding pain. Yuuri yelled out in shock, flinging himself away from the man, and collided hard with the ground. The wicker basket hung from his other arm crashed into the earth, some of its contents flying out from the collision.

Wind whipped at Yuuri’s clothes, lashing the short strands of his hair against his frostbitten skin. The snow escalated into a storm, large bundles of flakes falling from the dark, overcast sky in earnest. His short, quick breaths came out in visible puffs of mist from the rapid drum of his heart inside his chest.

 _Oh no, oh no, no, no_.

Yuuri raised a trembling hand to right his rounded eyeglasses, unblinking eyes surveyed the fallen man in front of him, braced on his side and visibly shaking. Warmth spilled through his body despite the freezing dip of the temperature. He continued over the dishevelled maroon clothing, catching on the loosened sash, until he met the brilliance of his wide, azure eyes. An incessant tug emanated from his energy core.

There was no way the Samurai had not noticed that.

“What… what _just happened_?” The man’s voice quavered quietly in Latina.

Thank goodness the man knew the common language. A silver lining, if anything.

“ _We have to run_.” Yuuri breathed, voice shaking.

Yuuri numbly pulled himself to kneel. He flung the fallen cloth-wrapped food back into the basket, vaguely noticing that the crowd had dispersed. They were utterly alone. For now.

They had to leave.

Trembling legs threatened to collapse from beneath him as he stood from the floor, towering above the magic-borne still lying on the ground. His pale face held an expression that appeared just as terrified as Yuuri felt, one hand clutching at the clothing over his chest.

“We need to run. _Now_ ,” Yuuri demanded urgently, “before they catch us.”

With no time to waste waiting for a response, Yuuri pivoted on his heel with a slight slip on the frozen ground and raced toward the bridge. They had to pass the castle, but it was the quickest route to safety. The sound of the scratching scramble of the man carried on the fierce wind, soon followed by heavy footfalls.

Yuuri headed straight of the safest place he knew: Teacher Minako’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my new Viktuuri fanfic! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter - let me know your thoughts ^.^
> 
> This idea for a magic AU had been brewing for a long time and was originally going to be written for the VIktuuri Fluff Bang, but I unfortunately ran out of time to complete it all :(  
> Alas, it means that I have a few chapters of this written already and I'm so excited to share it with all of you! 
> 
> Join me on:  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SakuraWindChime)  
> [Tumblr](sakurawindchime.tumblr.com)  
> 


	2. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the ever loving [izzyisozaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzyisozaki/pseuds/izzyisozaki)  
> 

Gusts pushed into his back and hurled Yuuri across the quickly emptying streets. Anyone still outside in the lashing blizzard jumped out of the way of his hurtling speed either in fear or plain bewilderment. Only the whistled rush of the wind and the harsh drag of freezing air filled his ears, completely blocking out any confirmation of the man keeping pace. Yuuri had not the nerve to look behind. 

If the Samurai had caught their scent, he would rather stay ignorant of their hunt that little while longer. 

Raw power roiled and buzzed within his core, furling out its fever to the very tips of his fingers and toes. Unnatural heat sweltered in waves through his body, the pummelling snow melting instantly upon impact and pasting his clothing to his skin. It was unfamiliar, yet it felt so _right_. Like something had finally slotted into a place within his core that was previously empty. It took every ounce of Yuuri’s will to keep the magic sealed tightly within its cage.

On the sharp turn of the final corner, the treacherous slew of slush and battered cherry blossom petals caused Yuuri’s feet to slide and he crashed bodily onto the ground. Ice burst from his palms, and he watched the spider-like fractals spread across the expanse of the road in sheer horror. Harsh breaths stabbed at his lungs. He hadn’t felt so out of control of his power since he was a child. 

Sandaled feet skidded to a sudden halt beside him, a pale hand quickly coming into view but Yuuri flinched away. _Don’t touch me, you can’t touch me_.

What if that– whatever it was, happened again?

“Are you okay?” The deep voice of the foreign magic-borne asked with concern above him. 

Tears welled within Yuuri’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. No, he wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay – they had been exposed! All of the hard work and precautions he and his family had taken, all of their lives had been unravelled after a single, innocent touch. He’d put his whole family in danger!

Not that a stranger from a foreign land understood the hardships of the magic-borne of Nippon. So Yuuri swallowed against his parched throat, storing those thoughts in a box and pushing them aside, and nodded instead. In that moment, they had to get out of the throwing range of the open street.

With his eyeglasses restored to the bridge of his nose, wicker basket and its contents once again retrieved, Yuuri tentatively pushed himself to his feet. He bit back a wince. His muscles and joints screamed from their torture, not used to such rough treatment. Well, not anymore.

“Careful,” the other man warned, hovering with his hands out as if to catch him.

Ignoring him, Yuuri turned and squinted against the white haze of the storm. The route to Teacher Minako’s house was almost more often walked than that to his own family home; he knew they weren’t far. But the blanket of snow proved as powerfully disorienting as any magic. In the distance, the distinctive curve of the gates of her house stood. _Thank the gods_ , they were on the right street.

He ran with all his might.

“Wait!” The man shouted after him, voice faint on the howling wind. “Where are we going?”

Not relenting his pace, Yuuri shouted over his shoulder in the hope it would reach him. “To someone who can help us,” he panted, “and explain what the hell just happened.”

Being the daughter of a Feudal Lord, Teacher Minako’s house was impressively vast and set on the edge of the town away from the bustle of the centre. Someone of her status would normally be the last person one would run to when evading the Samurai, but Minako had been breaking the law for the past two decades by teaching the Katsuki children how to wield their magic. Besides, she never allowed the vassals of her father within her home.

Yuuri pushed through the gate, bounding through the water garden, and just about caught himself before he slid open the door and crashed through the entrance. He hurried to toe off his sandals and place the battered basket down, socked feet hitting the wooden floor as he heard the door slide shut behind. The incessant buzz in his ears continued despite the shelter from the storm.

“I’m coming in, Teacher Minako!” Yuuri called out in Nihongo, voice wispy from trying to catch his breath, before he switched back into the Latina they usually conversed with. “We need your help!”

Harsh breaths wheezed behind him and Yuuri turned with some relief that the man had managed to keep up with the relentless pace. That was until he looked at the man’s feet.

“Don’t enter with your shoes on!” Yuuri shouted, scandalised.

Was that normal for him? Do people in other countries track all the dirt from the outside into their homes?

The foreigner halted mid-step, eyes darting to his sandals. He at least had the decency to appear sheepish at the trail of wet footprints on the otherwise clean, polished flooring.

“Sorry, I keep forgetting,” he apologised with a breathy laugh, before quickly retreating back into the entranceway.

His eagerness to please was honestly kind of endearing.

“Yuuri? What’s the hurry?” The familiar voice of his teacher echoed down the hall.

Yuuri whipped his head toward her, heart easing its bruising pace just slightly in the pleading hope and assurance that Teacher Minako would be able to help them. _She’ll know what to do_. Just as Yuuri opened his mouth to explain their urgency her eyes caught on the other man just past him.

“Hello there stranger,” she lilted, raising a brow at Yuuri. “You’ve sure been the excitement of the town this past week. And I can see why.”

A teasing grin spread across her face and Yuuri openly gaped. His teacher had a penchant for being blunt, but in front of a complete stranger from a different country! _They did not have time for this_.

But, despite it all, Yuuri chanced a glance to the side to gauge the other’s reaction. The man stood, comically, still bent from the removal of his shoes, owlishly blinking at the two of them. He seemed to gather himself promptly, however, shooting upright and giving a short chuckle.

“Really?”

With the step down to the entrance, he stood at an even height with Yuuri. Water dripped from the fringe that hung over the left side of face, pattering onto the floor. The rumours certainly hadn’t been wrong. He really was breathtaking, ethereal almost with the orange glow of the lamp light dancing over his pale skin and hair.

Teacher Minako hummed in affirmation. “Oh yes, married and single women alike have been swooning over your exotic looks. Even some of the men, but we can’t mention that.” Yuuri barely noticed the wave of her hand in his periphery. “So, what do we call you?”

With his chest still rising and falling with deep breaths and form noticeably shivering from the cold, the man stepped into the hall.

And, _oh_ , now he stood almost a head taller than Yuuri. He had to tilt his head back slightly to peer into those piercing azure eyes that in that very moment met with his own.

“You may call me Viktor,” he said with a rumble, giving a small incline of his head. “Viktor Nikiforov.” 

 _Viktor_. Yuuri silently mouthed the foreign –  _Russian?_ – name to himself, liking the way the quiet syllables felt as they morphed his lips and curled around his tongue.

“Pleased to meet you,” she gave a small bow, “and I’m Okukawa Minako.”

The sliding door rattled violently within its frame from a strong gale and Yuuri flinched, almost shrieking in fright. Torn down from the dreamy enchantment into the urgency of the present, real world. Reminding him that his wildly beating heart wasn’t just because of the man, _Viktor_ , standing but an arm’s reach away.

“The Samurai are coming after us!” Yuuri blurted, throwing out his arms and dragging his eyes away to beseech his mentor.

The desperate plea was all it took to melt away the playful expression, to be replaced with heavily drawn brows and firmly pressed lips.

“Come this way.”

She turned her back, sweeping down the hallway, and Yuuri hastened to follow.

“Um,” a tentative voice sounded after him, “can I use these?”

With a twinge of impatience Yuuri glanced over his shoulder at Viktor, finding him holding up a pair of beige slippers reserved for guests. He took pity on the magic-borne, noticing that not only were the clothes he wore too thin for the weather, but he did not even have any socks to cover his feet. _Just who provided those clothes for him?_

Yuuri sighed softly, giving a small nod. “Yes, of course. They’ll keep your feet warm.”

The smile he earned in response was too dazzling to behold. A blush threatened to warm his cheeks despite the cold fear coursing through his veins.

He _had_ to pull himself together. As they spoke, the Samurai could be stalking the neighbouring roofs just around the corner. There was no way they had not heard from Hasetsu’s people of the male Nihonjin and foreigner running for their lives through the streets. Yuuri swiftly turned on his heels to enter the room Teacher Minako had disappeared into, the floor boards creaking behind him with Viktor’s approach.

She stood off to the side, ignoring the low, blanketed table in the middle, with her arms crossed. “Is this why you’re both heaving like you’ve run a marathon? Did _you_ cause this freak storm?”

Yuuri stopped in his tracks, balking at the stern inflection of her tone. He wrung his hands, eyes immediately finding the floor to trace the rush straw weave of the mats.  

“I– I think so? Viktor was performing magic in public. There were too many people there– I _had_ to stop him before a Lord, or the Shogun, noticed!” Viktor made a questioning noise beside him, and Yuuri ripped his gaze toward his teacher, pouring his heart ache and sheer anguish for how lost he felt, how _scared_  he was, into his stare. “I don’t know what happened. It was just a touch and then there was a burst of light and pain, and it was like I had so much magic that I couldn’t contain it–”

“You had a surge,” Minako interrupted faintly. Her eyes widened impossibly, as if in disbelief.

Yuuri took a moment to process. The term jingled a distant bell within his memory, from long ago, from when he was just a small child pouring over texts he didn’t fully understand. Then the bell rang in remembrance. “ _Wait_. Like what was described in that Latina tome? But I thought you said that was a myth.”

Her brows drew in deep, arms unravelling to run a hand through the chestnut hair draped over her shoulders. “That kind of thing doesn’t happen here; it’s as good as a myth. It’s never been reported–”

“Did our cores bond?” Viktor cut in, stepping forward, voice sounding like it held a fierce edge of excitement.

“ _Bond?_ ” Yuuri shot at Viktor, exasperated, whipping his head around to fix him with an incredulous stare.

Sure, apparently, they had just experienced a surge together. Something that, up until just a minute ago, Yuuri had not even believed to be phenomenon that existed outside of the fairy tales from a centuries old tome. But Viktor believed that they had _somehow_ also formed a one-in-a-million magical fusion! Was he out of his mind, chasing these improbable possibilities at a time like this? Did he not understand that they were _in danger_?

That stunning azure turned on him and Yuuri froze on the spot, rendered mute with their intensity. All protests died in his throat, became silenced within his mind, with those wide eyes and expression that seemed almost vulnerable. He appeared so… _hopeful_.

“It’s possible,” Teacher Minako started, sighing harshly through her nose.

A shrill scream then struck through Yuuri’s heart, sinking with the smashing of porcelain that followed. _The Samurai_. Terror rose like bile in his throat, choking and searing with the reality of being found as he stood utterly petrified.

They had run out of time. They had to get out.

Teacher Minako rushed toward him, gripping his shoulders with firm hands. He watched her mouth move. But the words were drowned in the hysteria swelling and submerging him in freezing waters that threatened to fill his lungs.

He was suffocating. He couldn’t _breathe_.

Chilled air blustered through an opening in the wall that hadn’t been there before and Yuuri was pushed toward it. _There was a sliding door?_ A heavy pouch of coins was shoved into his unconsciously wrapped hands before warm, slender arms crushed him into a tight embrace.

“I’ll hold them off for as long as I can,” Minako promised with a warm whisper in Yuuri’s ear.

And he was pushed out into the frigid storm, door quickly snapping shut.

The wind bit through his soaked clothes. Yuuri clutched the pouch hard within his grasp, allowing the dull pain of the edged coins dig into his skin. The physical sensations grounded him, albeit only a little, and he grappled with whatever hold he had over himself left. He absolutely refused to the let the sheer panic consume him when they needed to survive.

“We have to run,” Viktor urged from beside him. “There are woods surrounding the town – we can lose the people chasing us and hide there. 

In the near distance, trees towered behind the few remaining rooftops. Yuuri bolted. 

This time Viktor kept pace, running beside Yuuri as they traversed the deep snow that that covered the streets. Each freezing footfall reminded him of the sandals they had left behind in the entranceway. The tracks they left were painfully obvious, a beacon to the Samurai that was the route they had taken, but there was nothing they could do to cover them.

Yuuri gasped for breath, lungs searing, as they reached the mouth of an alleyway between two houses and reached a yawning field of white that separated them from the covered safety of the forest. Somehow, blessedly, there was not a sound of pursuit. 

For the first time in a few years, Yuuri was going to leave Hasetsu. Cast out of the safety net and into the world, without even Teacher Minako nor Mari by his side.

Who knew that a simple touch would have led to this?

Thoughts tumbled out of the once neatly stowed box in his mind. They slammed into him: his family didn’t know. Mari, his parents, completely ignorant of their plight and waiting in the bath house for Yuuri’s return. His precious family had no idea of the storm that was coming after them, the storm _he_ had created. They were in danger! They needed to be warned!

Almost falling from his sudden stop and Viktor overtaking as he continued to run, Yuuri turned back toward the darkened alley. A hand gripped his wrist and Yuuri yelped with a spike of fear. Stumbling from the force, his back hit the solid muscle of a body.

Hot, heaved words gravelled into Yuuri’s ear. “Where are you going? We have to leave!”

Frustrated tears burned at the rims of his eyes. “I need to tell my family,” Yuuri shouted into the storm, roughly pulling against Viktor’s tightening restraint. “I need to say goodbye!”

His heart pummelled a shattering rhythm against his ribs. Torment and the pure agony of grief already squeezed it in a vice gasp. Roof tiles rattled from above.

“ _Blyad_ ,” Viktor spat and tugged Yuuri toward the floor. “We won’t make it across the clearing without being seen; this is the only place we have,” Viktor stressed, pointing toward a gap underneath the raised wooden veranda of the house alongside them.

Not seeing any other options and withholding the desperate sob wanting to escape his throat, Yuuri dropped and crawled into the tight, dark space and tried to take deep breaths. _It will only be for a short time, they’ll see we’re not here and go_.

Viktor snaked in, his body pressed close, before Yuuri felt a pull on his core. Snow drew toward the gap, piling up to block off their exposure to the outside, until but a slither of light remained at the top.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Viktor whispered.

Utterly overwhelmed and on the precipice of breaking, Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to reply with his aching throat. Instead, their haggard breathing filled the space; the muted wail of the wind outside the only other sound as they lay in a tension-laden wait for the Samurai to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for a loving reception to the first chapter! I hope you've all enjoyed this one just as much ^.^
> 
> Join me on:  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SakuraWindChime)  
> [Tumblr](sakurawindchime.tumblr.com)  
> 


	3. Fractals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the endlessly supportive [izzyisozaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzyisozaki/pseuds/izzyisozaki)  
> 

The longer they stayed within the confined space under the veranda, the greater the painful constriction around Yuuri’s chest grew. Viktor’s right side was pressed firmly against his, and Yuuri dared not to move despite the unforgiving hardness and chill of the dirt ground. Fear of discovery rattled around his bones; ears strained for any nuance of sound that would release the tense spring of coiled trepidation.

Since the initial scrape on the roof tiles, there had been nothing. No sign of movement had permeated through the wall of snow surrounding them, not even from whoever lived within the house under which they had sought refuge. The silence was eerily deafening: the lashing snow no longer falling after the storm had finally calmed. Had it been tens of minutes, or hours since they had hidden? Yuuri had absolutely no perception, save for the rapid beats of his heart that he meticulously counted to stave off the panic that threatened to bury him.

All he was aware of from the outside was the breeze that wafted through the once small gap that had begun to widen at a distressingly fast pace. Their warm, quick breaths and even warmer, sweating bodies radiated heat through the space and melted the barricade of snow that provided their sanctuary. After waiting with hard fought, shallow breaths in expectation, Yuuri gaped when Viktor moved but did not bother to close the melting snow with his magic. Instead, the man elected to lean up on his forearms to peer out of the gap and risk their exposure.

“Viktor,” Yuuri hissed.

“It’s okay,” he replied breathily, his composed features highlighted and glittered with perspiration from the strip of sunlight that filtered through. “I don’t think they’re coming back.”

Viktor shifted, carefully manoeuvring his right arm to splay out his hand. That acquainted pull on Yuuri’s core came again, and it struck him how the feeling was reminiscent of the call on its pool of energy when he performed magic. So their cores really had fused… or _bonded_. An irrevocable union of both of their energy reserves that would make their magic more potent, have greater endurance, and able to call upon the affinities of both wielders. 

No wonder Yuuri had all too readily believed it to be myth when its only evidence had been of aged ink on musty, mildewed paper. It was surely too powerful to be real.

He drunk in the sight of Viktor while he manipulated the snow into a heap, whom he would forever more be connected with thanks to a million-to-one chance in nature. Though the soft wonder was swiftly pushed aside by the clawed swipe of alarm as Viktor pushed himself out from under their cover.

“No, w- wait!” Yuuri implored in fear, teeth chattering from the cold set deep within his bones.

He lashed out a hand to grab at Viktor’s pale ankle, but the tips of his fingers only managed to brush the bare skin before it slipped out of reach. It hung there for a moment until Viktor’s hand grasped it and lightly tugged.

“There’s no one here,” Viktor assured upon Yuuri’s hesitation.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Yuuri gripped the hand still in his and used it as an anchor to haul himself out. He had to squint against the blinding white of the surroundings, but it was such a _relief_ to be free of the confined space, to inhale a greedy lungful of air that wasn’t so stifling. 

But when Yuuri got to his numb feet, his head swam. Out of his control, his body swayed until a strong arm wrapped around his waist to steady him before he met the unforgiving chill of the snow once again.

“Hey,” Viktor’s voice urged softly, concern strong in his tone. “Are you okay?”

Yuuri hummed in confirmation. His head pounded, but the washing sensation had subsided at least. “I’m… alright as can be.”

Warm breath ghosted over his face when he lifted his head. Viktor was _very_ close and Yuuri almost didn’t want to open his eyes, but, against his better judgement, he did. And the twin azure that bored into his eyes were so sharp, so startling that Yuuri had no hope in repressing the gasp that escaped his throat. On instinct he took a step backward, bumping into the solid edge of the veranda as heat rushed to his cheeks.

Yuuri quickly busied himself, adjusting the folds of his clothing and tightened the wrap of the sash. Viktor’s hands hovered for a few moments before he finally relinquished his weary, stunning gaze to survey the not too distant tree line.

“We should hurry, in case they decide to come back,” Viktor said, looking back toward Yuuri.

But Yuuri quickly averted his gaze, and Viktor began to walk. _Well, this is it_. With one last glance, Yuuri absorbed all the details he could from his sheltered position of the town where he had spent all of his life: its low storey houses and narrow streets, and the white castle that loomed its oppressive presence over it all. The town where he was now a wanted criminal and known magic-borne. He had no doubt that by the morning, all of the inhabitants would know that Katsuki Yuuri ran off with the handsome foreigner who wielded illegal magic.

Melancholy dropped its shroud over his head and body. Its cruel caress dearly reminded him of his failure to uphold the number one rule of any lower-class magic-borne of Nippon: _never reveal your magic in public_. He prayed silently to all of the deities that his family would not suffer at his foolish hand, nor any of the other magic-borne within Hasetsu who may have concealed their power.

_Goodbye mum, dad, Mari… Teacher Minako._

He sluggishly willed his feet to move forward, to cross the open divide of tranquil, unblemished snow, having no choice but to leave his entire life as he had known it behind.

“I’ll continue to smooth over our footprints, so they can’t track us if they do return,” Viktor reassured with a flurry of his fingers.

That explained the unceasing siphon of his magical energy, the feeling akin to the trickle of water over one’s skin. Yuuri craned his neck backward to watch in admiration the effortless sweep of the snow to fill in the deep footprints left in his wake. _Ah_ , so that was why the Samurai were so delayed in their hunt. It explained how, even when the vassals were so close, they had still failed to discover their location.

Aside from the tremble in his frame, Viktor barely exhibited any sign of exertion for the continual use of his magic. Whether that was due to the bond or Viktor’s innate ability, Yuuri could not hazard a guess. Nor did he display any sign of trepidation for its use in public, not that he would after openly performing in the street. And it struck Yuuri, then, the freedom the magic-borne over the ocean must enjoy. Resentment swelled in a dark tide. All he had ever wanted was to be able to practice without fear and to show everyone what he could do, but Yuuri swiftly quashed it. It wasn’t Viktor’s fault that he was born with the fortune of being raised within a country that was unafraid of the power of magic.

His thoughts weighed heavily against his skull and pressed down on his shoulders. Each step taking far more effort and concentration than the last. They had just passed the entrance to the dense thicket of boughs, the sharp bracken digging and scratching painfully at the soft soles of Yuuri’s bare feet, before Viktor spoke again.

“I’m sorry about your family, Yuuri.”

And Yuuri almost stopped right then and there. The knife that had been hovering above his chest plunged in and _twisted_. He choked, tears squeezing at his eyes and falling down the slope of his cheeks. Yuuri may never be able to see them again, their bright laughter and warm smiles to fade to nothing more than a distant memory that would never be renewed.

The reality of his and Viktor’s situation – a life forever lived looking behind their backs, forever on the run from forces they may not even see until it was too late – forcibly sunk in deep.

Warmth firmly wrapped around his upper arm and a quiet sob escaped Yuuri’s mouth, his hands darting up to push the rest inside the tight seal of his lips. He repressed the urge to look at Viktor, refusing to see the sympathy he knew would swim within their depths. The last thing he wanted was the other man’s pity. Yet, surprisingly, he found himself not shrinking away from the comforting touch like he normally would. Only his mother was ever able to provide the assurance that Yuuri needed.

The poignant reminder only sought to drive the grief all the deeper.

Viktor tightened his hold. “Minako will tell them what happened. If they hold even an ounce of the power I can feel that you have, they’ll be safe,” he spoke with a fierce conviction that Yuuri was simply unable to muster. 

How could Viktor understand that fighting back was not an option? That even a glimpse of magic would land them in an even greater peril than Yuuri had already plunged them into? But Yuuri remained silent to suffer alone within his mind. That gleaming ray of hope was too alluring, too radiant to cover with the bleak grey of clouds filled with rain.

“Come on.” Viktor sighed, his hand trailing down Yuuri’s arm to gently wrap around his wrist and spurred him into moving forward once more. “The farther we travel away from the town, the safer we will be too.”

They walked and walked and walked. Unrelenting in their fast pace, despite the burn in their lungs and the blood on their feet; only ever stopping to drink from the fresh flow of a passing stream. With no idea where they headed, only knowing that it had to be _away_.

The rapid darkening of the sky and the dive in temperature were their only indicators of the time that passed, every violent shudder of Yuuri’s body protesting against the inadequacy of the double layer of his spring clothes and covering jacket. Not that Viktor faired any better, shivering in the single layer of clothing that belonged to the heat in the height of summer or the temperate lounge of an inn. Unable to bear witness to the violent tremble, Yuuri peeled off his jacket to offer it to Viktor so that he at least had another shield against the biting cold. He accepted with wordless surprise, mouth dropped open, and Yuuri tried to ignore the tingle of delight it evoked within him.

It wasn’t until their pace began to slacken from exhaustion and his stomach roiled in a protesting cramp that it occurred to Yuuri that the weight of the wicker basket was missing from his arm. Left abandoned along with their sandals in Teacher Minako’s entrance hall with their sudden flight. The stinging pain felt along the torn-socked soles of his feet and the crimson that coated Viktor’s pale skin testaments to their dire situation.

It hit him how woefully unprepared they were; having hurtled through the overgrown forest without a plan or even an idea in which direction the nearest town laid. Their torn feet needed to be tended to before the wounds festered from the filthy floor covered in all manner of decay and animal foul. The best they could do was bathe in the sporadic streams they passed, but Yuuri greatly lamented the lack of bandages or ointment to keep infection at bay. _Deities, I implore you, please keep us from harm._

Water was easy. With Yuuri’s affinity, a magical manipulation could pull the drinkable water away from any of the harmful substances in a stream. But they had nothing to eat. How stupid he had been to not hold onto the basket filled with enough food to feed a dozen patrons for a night. Its contents probably would have lasted the two of them at least a handful of days with proper rationing. The weight of the two pouches of coin that sat plump beside his breast only further cemented his failure. _Again_ , he had the means to provide for their hunger yet had nowhere to purchase food. And Yuuri had no idea how to forage, never having required the knowledge to differentiate between the plants that would nourish and those that would kill.

They were going to _starve_ and Yuuri had held the means to aid their survival. How was he so utterly useless–

He lurched forward, foot snagging on an exposed gnarled root, before his body smacked into the ground. Jagged twigs pierced his palms that had been flung out to break his fall, though Yuuri hadn’t been quick enough to save his knees from the punishing throb of impact.

“ _Yuuri!_ ” Viktor’s alarmed voice called out.

Dried leaves crackled and fallen branches snapped in Viktor’s scramble toward him, but Yuuri could hardly focus with the overwhelming panic rising its acidic bile up his closing throat. How did they expect to survive out in the wilderness? They did not even have the appropriate clothing. No shoes, no food. If infection didn’t poison their blood first, then they would just waste away from ravenous hunger–

A hand landed on his shoulder and Yuuri bodily flinched from being wrenched from his choking mind, the hand immediately recoiling as his heart stuttered in its hammer against the constriction of his chest.

“I can’t go on like this anymore!” Yuuri gasped, unable to hold enough air in his lungs to _breathe_. “ _We need to stop_.”

“Okay, okay, of course. We can stop; we must be far enough now.” _No Victor, we need to stop to plan what we’re actually going to do!_ “You’re hyperventilating; you need to take deep breaths.” Viktor sounded flustered and Yuuri wanted to tell him that it would pass like all the others had before, but it took all of his energy to just keep himself from collapsing further into the barbed bracken. “Oh Mother, I don’t know what to do. You need a distraction– _Ah!_ Shall I dance for you?”

The suggestion was so absurd that Yuuri choked in shocked surprise, whipping head up to find Victor’s wide, unsure eyes mere inches away from his own. Surely he wasn’t serious; he must be exhausted and hungry too! Though Victor seemed to misread the momentary lapse in Yuuri’s ragged breaths and began to retreat, rising to his feet. The last thing Yuuri wanted was to be left alone, not when Viktor had unwittingly quietened Yuuri’s torturous thoughts. He _needed_ –

“ _No_ ,” Yuuri rasped desperately and Viktor instantly stilled, brows creased with uncertainty.“Don’t leave me, _please_ … just.” Willing his cold fingers to move, Yuuri reached out to grasp on the trailing sleeve of Viktor’s borrowed jacket. “Stay.”

Viktor’s shoulders drained of their tension, posture softening as he shuffled close. “I can do that,” he assured with a soothing smile.

The man was practically a stranger. Yuuri knew nothing about him, aside from the deep reservoir of power that beckoned to his core and the curious companionship forged between them from the embers of fleeing the law together. Viktor was his only refuge in his hostile country, and he was going to hold onto him with all of his might. As fellow criminals and as bonded partners, they would have to protect each other. It was the only choice they had – after all, that tome never had explained what happened to bonded cores when one became broken.

Sitting with a bowed head, Yuuri took deep breaths in and out. The forest rapidly darkened into night, strips of ghostly moonlight filtering through the gaps of the endless leaved canopy providing their only light source as he eventually calmed. At some point, Viktor had manoeuvred to sit beside him and placed a tentative palm on the small of his back. Animals sounded in the distance and the trees rustled with the breeze in a serenity that was almost jarring to the tumultuous day.

“We should stop here for the night,” Viktor murmured, as if he loathed to disrupt the peace that had settled between them.

Yuuri hummed in agreement, raising his head and removing his eyeglasses to wipe the misted lenses with his sleeve before placing them back on to peer at his companion. The low light caught upon the silver of Viktor’s hair, setting him delicately aglow with an almost ethereal quality. In all of his twenty-three years, Yuuri had never witnessed such an innate shine within another person.

It struck him, then, that he had somehow been gifted with a union to this stunning man, however ill the circumstances in which it came to be. Perhaps grey clouds always did eventually part to make way for the brilliance of the sun. 

Viktor cleared his throat, startling Yuuri into realising that he had probably been staring, unabashed, for some time without saying a word. “It’ll be easier to sleep off the hunger and continue in the daylight. Less chance of tripping then,’ Viktor lightly teased with a flourished wink, before pushing himself to his feet and dusting down his clothing. 

Somewhat dazed, a chuckle bubbled from Yuuri unbidden. They were on the run, stranded only the deities knew where in the thick of the forest, exhausted and hungry and hurt, yet Viktor still had the energy to be so cheerful. Dare he even ponder on the flirtatious nature of Viktor’s actions? He shook his head. Now was not the time to even entertain that unfathomable hope.

“Do you know how to make a fire?” Yuuri asked, urging his aching body to slowly stand with the aid of a tree trunk.

“Fortunately, yes. No one in my family has a heat affinity, so learning how to craft a fire the manual way was imperative in our home for us to stay warm during the winter.” Viktor spoke quietly, crouching to sweep away debris to expose moistened earth. “Eventually a friend came along who could manipulate flame and was insistent on his fires being more powerful, even though he always grumbles about helping us out.”

Yuuri set about to pick amongst the undergrowth, searching for the driest branches it had to offer. “Sounds like he enjoys it secretly.”

“You’re right on the mark there.” Even without seeing Viktor’s expression, the amused fondness rang clear in his tone.

“My sister is similar. Though she only ever grumbles about having to stoke the charcoal to keep up appearances, when she is perfectly capable of heating the air with her own magic.”

“I don’t understand this country,” Viktor stated vehemently, with such force that Yuuri paused in the piling of his findings, startled by the sudden eclipse of his demeanour. “Magic is an integral part of who a mage is – a part of a whole that cannot be removed – and a _gift_ that aids people’s lives. It isn’t something to be feared, and it certainly shouldn’t be _repressed_.”

Yuuri stared at Viktor as the man crouched and furiously rubbed wood together to create a spark. “It’s the way it’s always been,” he whispered.

“Doesn’t mean that is how it _should_ be.”

He held no response for that, and thankfully Viktor let the subject dissipate into the sounds of the night. While Yuuri shared Viktor’s sentiments, however well placed they were, there was nothing two lone magic-borne could do to fall a complex system of deeply woven roots. They were little more than saplings that strove to grow but would ultimately wither away under the shadow of the towering trees that continued to thrive.

The fire caught, Viktor coaxing it to life with his puffed breath while Yuuri hurried to feed the flames. They huddled close, sharing the warmth as they leaned against one another to stave off the enclosing darkness with the orange illumination. It took great concentration for Yuuri to draw out the water from the too-moist kindling, careful not to siphon more power than necessary from their joined cores. The loss of control he felt during the surge was not something he desired to return. With Viktor’s gentle encouragement and guidance, he was even able to manipulate the excess into droplets that served to wet their parched mouths. Every time the drops floated before Viktor, his tongue dashed out to catch them, and Yuuri didn’t bother to repress his giggles at the childlike action.

“Your magic is so useful,” Viktor commented after a while of catching the water to moisten his lips.

Droplets quivered in the air before Yuuri quickly swallowed them. Adjusting his eyeglasses with his free hand, he stammered, “S– so is yours. We wouldn’t have been able to escape so easily without it.”

Viktor barked out laugh, all jagged edges with its deprecation. The sound grated in Yuuri’s ears and he bristled at the tone that followed. “We also wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t been stupid enough to perform with it.”

The thick branch that Yuuri had been holding dropped to the ground, crushing the crisp leaves underneath its weight. Yuuri abruptly sat up from his slouch and pierced Viktor with a glare. “This mess is because of both of us. The surge would have occurred once we touched, regardless of your performing magic or not. We could’ve easily brushed upon passing in the street or if you happened upon my family’s inn,” Yuuri declared sternly, and Viktor’s too bright eyes snapped to his, mouth agape in astonishment. _You’re not the only one who can be passionate about what is right_. “So don’t go shouldering all of the blame by yourself,” Yuuri added gently after Viktor turned his redden face away to dash a hand over his cheeks.

With a deep sigh, Viktor slumped against him and Yuuri had to dart out a hand against the ground to prevent them from toppling over. “I guess it was fate then,” Viktor acquiesced after a time, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, Yuuri was sure he heard a smile within the lilted end.

In Nippon, it was contrary to decorum to allow a mere acquaintance such familiar, _intimate_ contact with one’s body unless they were entwined in matrimony. Even then, it was uncouth to physically confess one’s affection for another outside the privacy of their paper walls. Yet, as Yuuri felt Viktor’s sniffles subside into even, calm breaths, for the second time in that long, long day, Yuuri found himself damning the decorum that had dictated his every known move.

After all, hidden within those paper walls that never spoke, he had castrated propriety with his freezing, indomitable grip since the very first time he had been aware of the powerful crackle beneath his skin.

Gazing upon the silver that whirled atop Viktor’s crown, he found himself uttering into the silken strands, “Maybe it was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viktor's family friend is absolutely Yurio :P
> 
> I went to an anime convention over the weekend and I'm still totally exhausted but had to finally get this chapter published for you guys! I hope you enjoyed it – our boys are finding refuge within each other :3
> 
> Join me on:  
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